


Italians and the Dorky Blond Men Who Love Them

by Thats_Amore



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: America is a Dork (Hetalia), Cheek Kisses, Crushes, Cultural Differences, Developing Friendships, Fluff and Humor, Gen, M/M, Minor Germany/North Italy (Hetalia), Nationverse, POV Germany (Hetalia), Romano Is Suave AF, Teasing, g8 meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:40:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24012235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thats_Amore/pseuds/Thats_Amore
Summary: After South Italy attends the G8 meeting to fill in for his sick brother, he says goodbye to America the Italian way, and Germany discovers that he and America are more similar than he thought.
Relationships: America & Germany (Hetalia), America/South Italy (Hetalia)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 120





	Italians and the Dorky Blond Men Who Love Them

**Author's Note:**

> Cultural differences are fun, and Germany and America are bros who get each other, especially on that whole getting flustered by cute Italians thing. ;-)

The G8 meeting had actually been somewhat productive this time, but as he packed up after the meeting, Germany’s thoughts weren’t on the email he needed to send to his boss before he flew back to Berlin. Instead, he was concerned about Feliciano, who had apparently fallen ill and therefore been unable to attend today’s meeting as he customarily would have. Germany was considering scheduling some personal time so that he could go to Italy and attend to his lover while he was sick. He would make sure that Feliciano was getting proper rest, check his temperature at regular intervals, and prepare soup and soothing tea to ensure that Italy was getting adequate nutrition.

As Germany stuffed his papers back into his briefcase, a remark from Japan, who had been seated next to him at the conference, caught his attention. “I didn’t know America and Romano were so close.”

Germany glanced up at Japan, followed the direction of his gaze, and shrugged at the two nations who were standing together a few feet away from them. “Apparently, they’ve been friends for a long time.” According to Feliciano, their friendship dated back to the 1920s, when Romano had briefly stayed in America’s house along with Lithuania. Of course, they had fought on opposite sides during World War II (before South Italy surrendered to the Allies), but that had no discernable effect on their friendship in the modern era. In recent years, they seemed to be getting closer. Germany had noticed that they worked around their schedules to meet up outside of world conferences and would occasionally talk over the phone.

America and Romano’s friendship had never made much of an impression on Germany, who didn’t have a reason to care about who either nation chose to spend time with. But overall, it was a net positive for Germany. When Romano was distracted by America, he complained less about Germany spending time with North Italy and focused his irritation (often mixed with fondness and amusement in this particular case) on America instead.

Japan continued to gaze thoughtfully at the odd pair. “They seem remarkably comfortable around each other,” he noted. “Romano is smiling, which is unusual for him.”

Germany agreed with Japan. Unlike his gregarious brother, Romano typically had a grumpy scowl on his face whenever Germany saw him. But now, speaking to America, Romano was smiling while rolling his eyes. He batted playfully at America’s arm, and America’s responding laugh was loud enough to bounce off the meeting room walls. France and Russia, who had been discussing something in an isolated corner, glanced over at America and Romano. England looked up from the mobile phone he’d been tapping on.

Oblivious to the other nations staring at them, America pulled Romano into a tight hug, closing his eyes as he rested his chin over the shorter man’s shoulder. “I’ll see you in a couple weeks, okay?”

Romano sighed, but he didn’t sound particularly annoyed (for him, anyway). “You don’t have to act like I’m going off to war, idiota. I’ll see you soon enough.”

America let his hands drift away from South Italy’s waist and stepped back slightly. They were still in each other’s breathing space, Germany observed, curiously wondering why they were both being so awkward.

“I know,” America replied. “But I’ll miss you anyway. Call me when you get back to Rome, okay?”

Romano nodded. “I will.” He hesitated and furrowed his brows as if he was trying to decide something. Within a few seconds, Romano had made up his mind. He placed a hand on America’s shoulder to steady himself and rose up onto his tippy-toes to kiss America on the right cheek.

America didn’t move. His blue eyes widened behind his glasses, and his entire face turned pink, all the way from his hairline down to the collar of his shirt.

South Italy proceeded to kiss the other cheek, as was customary, and smirked as he lowered himself back onto his heels. “Ciao, Alfredo.”

“G-goodbye, Lovino,” America replied breathlessly. His tone was much softer than anything Germany would have expected to hear from someone as boisterous and overconfident as America typically was, and in that moment, Germany felt an odd sense of kinship with him. Germany could still recall the first time Feliciano had greeted him “the Italian way” and how flustered he had been by the affectionate greeting that wasn’t common among his own people.

Of course, back then, he had been helplessly in love with Veneziano, something he only understood a few years later. Perhaps something similar was happening to America with the Italian he was close to?

America stared wordlessly at Romano as he retrieved his briefcase and headed towards the door. He watched Romano leave until the door slammed shut behind him and let out an incredulous, shaky laugh as soon as he was gone. “Holy shit, dude.”

America glanced around the room and quickly darted over to Canada, who Germany had shamefully not noticed was still seated at the table. “Mattie, you won’t believe what just happened!” he yelled, shaking his brother’s shoulder violently to make him look away from his laptop. “Romano _kissed_ me.”

Canada blinked in surprise. “Eh? He did?”

England scoffed dismissively. “On the cheek.” He shook his head at America in the way he always did whenever he thought his former colony was being particularly foolish. “Really, lad, I don’t know why you’re making a fuss over nothing.”

“It’s not nothing!” America insisted, blush deepening to a darker shade. “It’s kissing! Kissing is a huge deal!”

Japan nodded sympathetically. “I understand, America-kun. Farewells like that are not common in my house either. When one is presented with more physical contact than they are accustomed to, it can be quite embarrassing.”

“See! Japan gets it! I don’t know why you’re acting like I’m being weird.” America leaned against the wall behind him and pouted like a child who had been sent to time out. When France approached him, chuckling gently, America glared at the older country.

“Oh, Amerique, where is this sudden shyness coming from?” France placed a hand on America’s shoulder and rubbed it to dispel the tension that had most likely gathered there. “You have never reacted like this when I greeted you in such a manner.”

“That’s different. You’re all touchy-feely and _French_ , so I know to expect that kind of thing from you. Plus, we’re practically family. It’s not the same thing at all.”

Russia popped up next to America’s side and poked his cheek. “Aw, look at little Amerika! When he’s flustered, he turns as red as a beetroot!”

“Can it, Russkie,” America grumbled unhappily. He folded his arms defensively over his chest, and Russia grinned brightly.

“America has a crush, doesn’t he? That’s why he reacts so strongly to South Italy kissing him but not to France doing the same thing.”

Germany winced at Russia’s comment and exchanged a mortified look with Japan. Privately, Germany had been suspecting the same thing, but he would have _never_ mentioned it aloud.

“Dude, don’t say that!” America yelled, clearly freaking out. “He might hear you!” Ironically, if Romano could have overheard anything from the hallway, it would have been America’s loud protests, not Russia’s teasing.

“This explains so much,” Russia continued cheerfully. “Amerika always refused the socialist fraternal kiss from me, but if it had been from Romano instead—”

Canada slammed his hands on the table and stood, turning to face Russia with a dark, protective aura. “That’s enough, Russia. We’re all friends here, aren’t we?” His grin was sharp, like a wild bear, and even Russia knew it would be wise to back off when Canada was in that particular mood. He responded with a small “da” and quickly stepped away from the country he had just been gleefully antagonizing.

Canada sighed, and then he addressed his brother. “America, England was right. The cheek kiss as a greeting or a goodbye gesture is standard practice in many countries, including Italy. I’m sure Romano does it with all his friends, so there’s no reason for you to get worked up about it, eh?”

America pouted and avoided meeting his brother’s gaze. “I guess not. It just caught me off guard.”

America was exceptionally unskilled at hiding his feelings, Germany thought. If Romano’s particular way of bidding him goodbye had been simply embarrassing, Canada’s explanation would have been a welcome relief to him. Instead, America was obviously disappointed at the implication that his relationship with Romano was not special enough to merit a goodbye he wouldn’t give to anyone else.

Before anyone with less discretion (i.e. France or Russia) could point this out, England cleared his throat. “We should all be heading out. You chaps have flights out either tonight or tomorrow morning, right?”

With a few murmurs of agreement, the nations finished gathering their stuff and left the conference room. Germany checked his watch and noted that he had a few hours before he had to catch his flight. That would be plenty of time to compose an email to his boss, neatly pack everything into his suitcase, and catch a quick meal before he headed out to Heathrow Airport.

As Germany was walking down the hallway with France, he noticed America paying for a drink at the vending machine. Impulsively, he told France that he would catch up with him later and walked over towards America. He didn’t entirely understand _why_ he decided to go speak to the other nation. America’s personal life was hardly any of his business, but his disappointment earlier, combined with his slumped shoulders as he stood in front of the machine, pricked at Germany’s conscience. It was disturbing to see someone who was typically optimistic and lively looking as tired and discontent as America did now. Germany cleared his throat and gave America a strained smile when he turned to face him.

“America, forgive me if I’m intruding, but if you have a moment, I would like to speak with you.”

America raised an eyebrow. “Sure thing man, no need to be so formal. What’s up?”

A soda can fell into the retrieval area, and America bent down to collect it. During the pause, Germany tried to figure out how to say what he needed to.

“It’s… um, about what your brother said earlier. He was only half-right, you know.”

America popped open the top of his soda can and took a sip. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Romano isn’t close to that many people,” Germany said diplomatically. “That is, he’s very selective about who he will actually claim as his friend.” Romano was far too prickly and hot-headed for most people to bother trying, as far as Germany could tell. Romano’s initial hatred towards Germany had eventually cooled into mere dislike, but that had taken decades. Even now, Romano could be quite rude towards him, and Germany responded with civility primarily for Feliciano’s sake (as well as to avoid disrupting international relations, of course).

America looked like he was barely managing to contain a fond smile. “Yeah, I kind of got that impression.”

“Other than his brothers, he’s only truly close to Spain and Belgium. Spain practically raised him, and he spent much of his childhood around Belgium as well. I’m surprised you managed to worm your way in, actually.”

America visibly perked up at this information, quite similar to the way Aster would wag her tail whenever Germany held out her favorite treat during obedience training. “So basically, I’m in Romano’s uber-exclusive, top secret inner circle?”

Germany was bewildered by America’s sudden exuberance and his bizarre terminology. “I suppose that’s one way of putting it.”

“Ha! See, I knew that! There’s no way Canada could’ve been right! It’s not like Romano runs around kissing everybody he sees.”

Germany huffed out a soft laugh. “Hardly.” The mental image of Romano going around kissing all the other nations was preposterous, and Germany couldn’t help finding it amusing.

America beamed at him. “You know what, Germany, I think you’re a pretty cool guy.”

Germany was unsure how to respond. “Um… danke?”

America chortled in his usual loud manner and did a strange “finger gun” gesture with the hand he wasn’t using to hold his soda can. “Til next time, German dude!”

“Auf wiedersehn,” Germany replied, offering a brief wave before he turned around and went back in the direction he had intended to go before he spotted America standing at the vending machine. As he exited the building, Germany reflected that he had done a good deed by talking to America alone instead of letting him continue to be disappointed. America would probably need much more help with whatever was going on between him and Romano in the future, but that wasn’t Germany’s place nor his area of expertise. Germany’s thoughts gradually drifted away from what had happened after the meeting, and as he flagged down a taxi, he began mentally composing the email he would write to his boss as soon as he returned to his hotel room.


End file.
